


Ashes and Embers

by orphan_account



Series: Beautiful Chains [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, POV Solas, Post-Conclave, Solas Being an Asshole, Things did not go as planned, part of a larger story, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When he hears of a survivor found in the wake of the Conclave explosion Solas knows everything has gone wrong.





	Ashes and Embers

There was one survivor.

It should not have been possible. The blast from the orb destroyed everything on the mountain, an unfortunate but necessary side effect of unlocking its power. The pressure of unused magic had built in the artifact for ages and it was only natural there would be a brief but dazzling release in those first moments of its awakening. The frail beings of this age saw it as a monstrous disaster. Solas knew it was quite mild compared to the full power of the orb - like a spark between flints rather than the roaring fire it would become.

The gossip that came down to Haven in those hours after the event was troubling. He was waiting for the humans to find his orb in the rubble so he could reclaim it but that is not what they spoke of. They only mentioned the person found on the peak, supposedly seen stepping directly from the Fade.

That, too, should not have been possible. With magic all but dried up, no creature of the present day could survive a physical venture beyond the Veil. He would not believe that was what happened - could not believe it - unless he saw with his own eyes some proof of it. Though it was a curiosity, he did not need to care for that one lucky individual. He needed the orb. Then he could seal the tear and be on his way. The rest was moot.

Night came and there was still no news of the cause of the explosion. Solas stayed late in the tavern, bearing the smell and raucous crudity of the patrons for the possibility of loose words from drunken soldiers. Nothing of his orb. He was becoming impatient. It should not be a difficult task, even for such dim creatures. They could not sense the artifact but he was confident they should at least see it.

It was after midnight, just as he was considering the risks of going to look for himself, when he discovered he would have to change his plans. To his ire.

“You were there, eh Mathis?”

“S’right, I found the rabbit. Dunno if I’m blessed or cursed now but I never seen nothing like it,” the soldier said, tipping back an ale all in one long gulp. Solas, ears straining to parse their conversation from the rest of the noise, glanced at them in time to see the human wipe his lips on his gauntlet and belch.

He continued, “It was like someone had ripped open the air so she could walk in from Maker knows where. Bessy was with me and she says it was the Fade but I never seen it so I can’t say. So this rabbit just walks through in a daze, stumbles a bit, and falls on her face. And her hand is glowing. I mean it! Glowing and splurting out crazy magic like lightening. But the real crazy thing was what we saw behind her before that rip just closed itself up: it was Andraste, I swear to the Maker. She was so bright you couldn’t barely look at her, like holy fire. She didn’t say nothing and she was gone in a blink, but it was Andraste, I swear to the Maker it was.”

“Come off it. Why would Andraste be there? With a knife-ear? Bet she’s the one that did it.”

“I don’t know nothing about it. I told Bessy I wouldn’t touch her so we reported in and the Commander ordered her taken to the Chantry. Bet they think the same as you. Maybe the elf did do it but I swear I saw Andraste so I don’t know what to think. It’s not my problem anyway. I’ll let the Chantry decide. All I know is while we were carting her down to Haven, every time the Breach popped her hand went crazy and started spitting magic. Like it’s responding or somesuch. We’ve got the Seeker and the Commander and they know magic, so it’s not my problem. Just hope they deal with the Breach too. I’ve heard there are demons starting to crawl out of the temple …”

Solas stood. The information did not bode well. It seemed he would be required to care about the survivor after all.

The Breach was easily visible from Haven. As soon as he stepped out into the snowy town he was bathed in its soft, eerie glow. The one visible moon could not compete with the light it produced. As he marched across the quiet town to the Chantry, the green glow flashed stronger across the snow. Solas counted his footsteps - one, two, three, four, five - before the now familiar boom sounded. It was expanding. If he did not retrieve his orb and close it, the Fade would violently rend the Veil completely and come crashing into the living world. He wanted to remove the Veil, but not like that, not with such casualties. And he needed to control it in his own time to account for Them. Once the dam was dropped and the magic flowed back they would find a way to free themselves. His jaw clenched. Even he would not know how far they had decayed after so many centuries. He doubted they would be recognizable - or comprehensible.

That was for another day, however. For now his new focus was determining whether or not the elf the soldier spoke of did what he thought they did. He hoped he was wrong.

As expected, he was stopped at the door of the Chantry. The soldier - obviously a volunteer that had no interest in his duties - barely blinked at him. “The Chantry is closed to visitors until morning.”

“I am here to offer my assistance in dealing with the Breach. I have certain knowledge that may be beneficial to your leaders,” Solas said.

“Oh, do you now?” He nodded with feigned interest. Solas grit his teeth. Dealing with humans was always unnecessarily difficult. It was the rare person that didn’t glance at his ears and immediately think him beneath them. In time, he promised himself, the elves would have their place again. He only needed to suffer the humans a little longer.

“I am an apostate,” here the man bristled. “And I have studied the Fade and the Veil at length. I believe what I know will be useful in closing the Breach.”

In fact, he was perhaps the only person that could resolve the tear in the Veil. If he had even a fraction of his former power it would be done already. Yet here he stood, weak as the rest in the current age and needing their cooperation. He did not like to dwell on the thought.

The man took some coaxing, but he eventually grumbled and told Solas to wait outside while he asked his superior if they would see him.

Solas sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Sleep, he needed sleep. He could no longer control the cycles of his body. That was the most difficult loss to adjust to after awakening. It was one of the many things he had not considered when building the Veil. It was so natural, he had thought, to tell the body when to sleep and when to stay awake, when to desire food and how to heal itself, that it could not possibly be based in magic. It was simply part of being elven. Now he hungered when his body told him and slept when his eyes demanded it. He could not imagine living an entire lifetime in such a way. It was nearly barbaric.

The soldier returned and told Solas that Seeker Cassandra would see him. He was led into the Chantry where his fingers and toes were allowed to thaw. The woman in question was standing inpatiently in the hall, lips thin and eyes rimmed with sleeplessness.

“Well?”

Solas brushed off her rude tone and introduced himself. At the word “apostate” - one he learned from the humans - her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What reason would an apostate have to help the Chantry? Were you here for the talks? Why were you not at the Conclave like other mages?” she interrogated.

“You have seen the Breach, have you not?” he bit back. “It is a hole into the Fade and demons will be pouring out in due time, if they have not already. It is in my best interest to assist in closing it, the same as anyone. As to your other question: as I am an apostate I did not feel it wise to reveal myself until I knew it would not be used against me. Attending the talks directly would have done so. Will you accept my offer or not?”

Cassandra scowled.

“Are you a healer?” The new voice sent a jolt through his shoulders. Solas looked for the source and found a hooded woman standing beside one of the pillars in the hall. He frowned. He did not know how long she had been in attendance.

“I am.”

“Leliana,” Cassandra warned. Leliana beckoned him to follow her. He waited for half a moment before doing so. Cassandra gave an angry grunt but conceded to her companion and came in step behind Solas. They went through an oaken door and down a long flight of steps. There was a room with what appeared to be old archives, and further down the hall a prison area.

He heard the crackle first, akin to a lightning spell, before green light danced on the walls in the torchlit room. So the soldier told the truth. Solas felt his heart drop. All possibility of his plan continuing as it should was destroyed.

“The mark glows every time the Breach does,” Leliana explained. “We believe them connected, though we do not know how or why. Perhaps you would like to give your thoughts?”

He looked at the woman lying in the cell. She was nearly face down and he had the impression they had simply tossed her body in and locked the door. “Have you asked her?”

“She does not waken,” Cassandra said.

Solas nodded. “Then may I examine the mark?”

Cassandra nodded to the templar standing nearby. He did not need to see it to know the mark was his own. Standing so close he could hear the old song humming from beneath the louder, more obvious crackling.

He knelt and took up her hand, stopping in surprise when the light cast across her face. He had expected a city elf - someone from one of the slums he had seen glimpses of - but the violet tattoos that greeted him were Dalish. What was a Dalish doing here?

For now, it did not matter. What mattered was the magic the woman had unwittingly stolen from his orb was too powerful for her body to carry. It would kill her if left untethered. It already was, if her blue lips and greying skin were any indication.

He gave the appearance of examining the mark as it slowly spluttered into silence. The two women were watching him intently while the templar kept her eyes trained on the unconscious elf.

“The mark is an unusual magic. It is not a spell or enchantment and it seems to have fused itself to her body. It is placing a great burden on her, and will kill her if left alone. I do have a theory that it can be used against the Breach but she would need to be conscious to test it,” he said.

“You can stop the mark?” Leliana asked.

“I can try.” He meant that honestly. He did not know if he would be successful.

“Leliana, you cannot simply trust him at his word.” Cassandra sent him a glance.

“What choice do we have? Cullen has already received reports of demons. The Breach must be dealt with. This woman may have answers. She might even know who killed the Divine.”

“With magic like that, there is no doubt in my mind she is responsible… . But if the mark is the only way to fix the Breach, we will need her alive.”

Leliana nodded, satisfied, and looked to Solas. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“I will need food and drink, and blankets if you can spare them. I would not leave her side until I know she is stable,” he said immediately. Leliana gave him a muted smile and promised it would be done. Cassandra, in the meantime, had instructed her templar to remain on watch. The two women left shortly after.

Solas adjusted the nameless elf to lay on her back and set to work healing the gashes on her lip and forehead. He knew the Dalish chose their own markings in a coming of age ritual and wondered what compelled her to pick Falon’Din. Most of their people settled on the more peaceful or benevolent of their gods. The Dalish did not know him as Falon’Din the Devourer, but even they held on to some remnant of the old fear at his name. Solas decided not to dwell on the question. It was enough for him the slave markings were not infused with magic as they once were. The sight of them was grotesque but at least they were benign.

He made a quick check for any internal injuries and settled into a seated position with the marked hand in his lap. The wards would take some time, perhaps the rest of the night. The templar said nothing to him so he was left to work in silence.

A skittish elven girl brought the items he requested from Leliana some time after he began. He thanked her, but she was far too concerned with the mark to notice. It was glowing softly in response to his magic. The templar barked at her to move on and she stumbled away back to the main floor. Solas sighed and held his tongue.

He could not say how much time passed in the dungeon. No one had yet come to relieve the templar, so he could be reasonably certain it was not dawn. His heavy eyes and empty stomach told him it was not far off. The only mark of his progress was the return of color to her lips and skin. He did not have much of an opportunity to bask in his success.

With the life returned to her, the marked woman began to stir. All at once her eyes snapped open, vibrant green and unseeing. She twisted and flailed, trying to escape with a cry on her lips. He followed her arm - if she broke the connection to his ward he would have to start from the beginning - as she shouted something about eyes.

“Hold her!” But the templar was on her before the words were out of his mouth, pinning her with such force his ears twitched at the crack of her skull against stone. The woman fell limp.

“That was unnecessary,” Solas snapped. He grasped the elf’s hand again, this time holding it in his palm as he worked. He would have to heal her when he was through.

“You say that but she’ll go after you first when she becomes an abomination, mage.”

This world is an abomination, he thought. Solas took a deep breath and did not bother to respond. He would heal the woman, she would seal the Breach, and he would find what happened to his orb. It was only a momentary wrinkle, a small deviation from the course.

On that cold dungeon floor Solas eased his mind with thoughts of restoration.


End file.
